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Unknowingly
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Satish Verma You forget to give me the warning.
After the kiss of
smoky clouds, I was
waiting for the moonrise.
And the rain would
drench me as you did it to me.
I will give more and get less
telling nothing.
It was only a thought,
once now a phrase, that
you are afraid to accept.
In summer, somewhere nightingale
waits for the call.
In a slice of moment, I stumble
then crash.
You become the song of the day.
